


Under the Sheriff's Protection

by terdactyll



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel, Detective Castiel, M/M, Police Officer Dean, Sheriff Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terdactyll/pseuds/terdactyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Sam Winchester is having a bad day—two people were found murdered in his town, and the only witness claims to have no idea why. He takes one look at the witness and realizes he's none other than Gabriel Novak. His ex-husband.</p><p>But there's no time to find out what Gabriel is doing in Lawrence. Or why he left him so suddenly and disappeared. Because the killer might not be finished in Lawrence, and unless Sam Winchester can protect him, Gabriel is next on the killer's list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. C. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'Unconventional Courtship' fic fest. Summary is based off of Delores Fossen's 'Under the Sheriff's Protection'. Beta'd by burningavenues.

**5 Years Ago**

The water covered his head and Gabriel floundered once again. He was getting light headed, but he hardly noticed with the burning in his chest. It had been a dumb plan, exactly the kind of recklessness he had been accused of by his brothers. His movements seemed slower, even though he was redoubling his efforts to rise to the top. He didn't even have time for one last, self-deprecating joke before he was gone.

**1 Year Ago**

Sam nearly had a heart attack when he woke up. The sun was coming through the blinds: how late had he slept in? He barely had time to shower and call the station before rushing out of the house, ignoring the note Gabriel had left him, most likely to gloat over once again disabling his alarms. He 'worked too much' apparently, although Sam never failed to remind him it was because he was working that Gabriel was still alive. His secretary, Charlie, handed him his coffee as soon as he came in the door and gave him the lowdown on the calls that had come in overnight. The Wehr's dog had gone missing and there had been a few bar fights. A busy night, Sam was almost sad he had missed it. He thanked Charlie and went in to say hello to the rest of the crew.

The day went by without a text from Gabriel, which was odd but occasionally his work was busy enough that not even Gabriel could slack off. The door was locked and the lights were off when he came in. He called after Gabriel, who was probably sleeping off his long shift at the nursing home, but there was no reply so he simply headed to the fridge, grabbing the note to skim as he contemplated cooking or take out.

Time stopped.

Sam,

I'm sorry, it's over. I think you know why. My ring and the papers are in the office.

Gabriel.

He didn't know why. He stared at the note, his heart frozen, before gently placing it back on the fridge. His hands smoothed over the note, making sure it was exactly where it was.

He wished it was a nightmare, but he wasn’t blind enough to what had been happening to think that.

Sam took a step away, his eyes never leaving the yellow post-it. His heart was stuttering, or was that his breath? His vision was going blurry, and he recognized nausea and shame rolling around in his gut, but even stronger, anger.

“I loved you,” he choked out. “You fucker.”

Dean found him two days later after a concerned call from Charlie, his hands torn up and flecks of drywall in his hair. "It's ok, Sam," he spotted the ring in a corner and pocketed it before putting Sam to bed and rescuing the divorce papers. "Drink up, little brother." Sam was too exhausted to ask what pills he was taking, and was soon lost to vague dreams and cold sweats.

**Today**

Sam got to the station early, before any of the day-shifters stumbled in. He listened to the radio chatter while catching up with the paperwork he had left from yesterday and catching up on the news. A moment later, his body went rigid, jaw hard, and he strode out of the office in three large steps, calling for back-up on the radio and dialing the nearest forensic unit to beg for a team. He arrived at nearly the same time as the first cop car, the wheels still turning as he jumped out and stepped into the fray, interested motel patrons and early-bird journalists. He ordered Ritter to start taking statements, and nodded an invitation at Balth, turning towards the small room with the open door.

It was a mess. Surrounding a clean square of carpet, blood spotted the sides of the neatly made beds, the wall, and occasionally the ceiling. The bodies were not displayed, but rather simply crumpled where they had been rolled by the removal of the plastic sheet. Sam heard the snap of bubble gum behind him and gestured at the mess. “Pictures, Garth. Make them good. You,” he pointed at the greasy man who was reaching towards the bodies, “Out. My men will take your statement. You don’t give one, I’ll find you. Dean,” he added, turning to face the door and take the measure of the man casually leaning against the doorframe, a passive expression on his face, “You co-ordinate with the forensics team that’s going to be arriving in a few hours. Benny’s on bouncer duty and Garth, I want those pictures sent to Charlie stat.”

“Already on the cloud, sir.”

“Dean, get over here and help me roll the bodies over,” he continued, giving Garth a confused look, who’s arm was blocking Sam’s way.

“Gloves, gigantor.” Sam suppressed the urge to wince at the familiar nickname and accepted the too-small gloves from Garth, watching to make sure Dean took some too.

“So, are the forensics people as hot as on TV?”

“Is your doctor as hot as Dr. Sexy? I didn’t think so Dean.”

“Gross, Sam. Dr. Green is as old as balls.” Sam made a face while motioning Garth over. “I need Charlie to run face recognition and- oh. Never mind.” He stripped the gloves, resisting the urge to throw them in the motel garbage and grabbed his phone, swearing at some poor secretary before he was even out the door.

“Someone we know?” Garth asked, squinting at the body, sending the pictures to Charlie anyways.

“No one I’ve seen before. Hey, wait! Those ugly mugs were on the TV two weeks ago! I was at the dentist’s office and you know how that crap goes, man…”

“Lil help, brother?” The room darkened as Benny blocked the door and Garth cursed at him for ruining his shot.

“What, locals getting too rowdy for you, big man? Ever thought of retirement?”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted from the door, “Get out there.” He disappeared once more after leaving more instructions and the room cleared, except for Garth, who stood with a puzzled look on his face before shrugging and standing duty at the door, making sure his crime scene wasn’t contaminated.

A couple hours later, one of the forensic detectives scrutinized Sam as he was giving the details on what they had done that morning, before interrupting him. “Get a lot of crime this way?”

“We’ve had our bigger cases. I was an officer in LA for a few years, I know the drill and make sure my men don’t make mistakes.”

“Fuck it all up, you mean.”

“Yes,” Sam didn’t like the implication that he and his unit could be fuck ups but let it slide, following the man into the room.

“Have you ID’d the bodies?”

“Yes, Michael and Raphael Milton, from the New York Miltons. They’re doing a press release in 15 minutes.”

“Oh.” Sam nearly ran into the man, who had stopped walking, but quickly gathered himself and went to go do his job while Sam answered his smartphone.

“Sheriff Winchester.”

“Hey, Sheriff, we uh, we got a witness down here at the station. Says he’ll only talk to you.”

“Dean, you never call me Sheriff. What’s up?”

“I can try and take his statement if you want, but he’s pretty insistent.”

“Dean, I’ll be right there.” Sam waved at the team before heading to his car. Something was up.

“In there,” Benny gave him a nod and a small smile before going to refill his coffee cup once Sam entered the station. Sam headed to the conference room and prepared himself for whatever could be behind the door. When people asked for him, it usually meant they knew him and Sam knew way too many different kinds of people.

It still wasn’t anyone he was expecting.

"Gabriel?" Sam stared, slack-jawed, smartphone still in his hand.

His ex was in his conference room, feet resting on the table, arrogant wise-ass smirk all over his face.  “Hiya, Sam!” Gabriel raised his hands and rested them on the back of his neck. “How’s things?”

“Gabriel.” Sam’s voice was less shocked, and more annoyed this time.

“You said that already.”

The wise-ass smirk hadn’t left yet.

It took Sam a moment’s hesitation to decide how he was going to handle the situation before he acted on it. He threw on his most patented bitchface he owned, unlocked his phone, and levelled Gabriel with the most I-Don’t-Care expression possible. “Would you look at the date? Haven’t seen you in, oh, looks like a little over a year. Kind of you to call in and see how I’m doing, but I’m in the middle of an important murder investigation, that my ex-husband apparently had something to do with. I’m sorry,” he said, holding up a finger and silencing any protests Gabe- Gabriel, was trying to make. “I really am, but my partners are going to have to take your statement. I’d say see you around, but I really don’t want that to happen.”

He turned around, left the room, and went for Dean.  

He found his brother in his office. Sam stood in the doorway, hands by his side. “So, you didn’t feel like telling me Gabriel was in the building, asking for me?”

Dean stopped stirring his coffee for a moment. “Naw,” he replied, not even looking at Sam, “You would’ve run away. How’d it go? Wait-” Dean glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “You did run away.”

“What’d you expect? Dean. It’s not like it was an amicable split,” Sam hissed.

Dean looked like he was going to say something, but stopped himself.

A heavy hand landed on Sam’s shoulder, and he jerked away from it.

“Winchester!” Benny’s tone was his usual Cajun gruff, with a bit more of an order attached to it. “You can fight later, just go take the man’s statement, for fuck’s sake.”

“And you can’t do it… because?” Sam snarled.

“Nobody was kiddin’ when they said hey wouldn’t talk to nobody else. Jus’ do it, man.”

“It’ll be handled, Benny. Just… I need a moment.”

“Then take one. Dean’s got an assignment too, so take it somewhere else.”

For some reason, Benny always looked sympathetic, even if he had no idea what was going on. Sam gave his brother a hard look, one that said the argument wasn’t over before he moved out slowly.

“I had that handled you know, Benny,” Dean’s voice came floating from down the hall.

“Yea yea, what was that about anyways?”

“That? Oh, that was just Sam’s ex-husband or something. Hard to remember these things.”

Sam yanked the door open and stepped into the room to let it click shut behind him. He stared passively at the infuriating man in front of him before grabbing his notebook and pen from where he had dropped it earlier and sitting down.

“Gabriel Novak,” he began, but was quickly interrupted.

“Actually it’s Milton. Gabriel Milton.” Gabriel cleared his throat. Sam’s hand paused, and he fought the urge to go after Dean once before, his bodyguard be damned.

“Ok Gabe- Gabriel. What happened last night?”

“Well, I got this call from Michael. Something about ‘it’s all gone wrong’ and ‘we’re gonna be slaughtered by the media’ and other doom and gloom shit. So I got an address out of him, showed up at this creepy ass motel and ran into my other brother, Lucifer. I said hello, he said hello, I asked what was up and he said to go talk to the guys, they’d fill me in. He drives off, I knock at the door. Thank goodness - or not, I guess - it was unlocked, which was when I called the police. End of story. So Sam,” Gabriel leaned across the table, waggling his eyebrows. “How you doing?”

Sam closed his eyes. In, and out. Just breathe. “What car was Lucifer driving last night?”

Gabriel leaned back into his chair, sprawling once more. “Black SUV. Something ugly and guzzly. Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m not a car guy, not like you’re creepy brother. Has he got help for that yet?.”

“Why were your brothers in Lawrence?”

“Dunno. Not like this backwater town has anything to it. This place is the scum of the earth, gum on my shoe."

Sam fought the urge to point out that Gabriel had deigned to live in this very town for 4 years. "Can you think of anywhere Lucifer might have gone last night?"

"No. His girlfriend back in New York might be able to think of something though." Gabriel beamed, seemingly proud of his ability to contribute to the case.

"Her name?"

"Meg something-or-other. I've seen them in the papers." Gabriel gave a dismissive wave and started kicking a table leg.

"Thanks. Don't leave town."

"Or what, Sheriff - you're gonna come find me? Because last I check I hadn't heard from your sorry ass in a year."

"This is a murder investigation. We’ll find you."

Gabriel got the distinct impression that despite the demand to stay in town, Sam would appreciate if he disappeared again. He gave a slow grin. "Guess I won't be leaving anytime soon then."

The door clicked shut once again and Gabriel was left wondering if he was allowed to leave yet. He shrugged minutely, there was business to be done and it sure wasn't going down in a cop shop.

Outside of the station, Dean was trying to handle the grumpy guy. Didn’t he know morning was hours ago? He was yammering on about some plastic sheet and detailing some epic mission to recover it or what else and - his thoughts stopped as the man stepped closer to him and glared at him with hard, blue eyes.

“You should give me a little respect, Officer Winchester. I’m covering up for your mistake.”

Dean almost shivered, the delicious tones of that voice wrapping around his body and - “I’m sorry, Detective, I think I missed your name.”

“Detective Novak. Now where can I get some damn coffee that isn’t dirty dishwater around here?”

“Uh, there’s some hippy-dippy place just around the corner,” Dean vaguely gestured and Castiel turned around.

“Hannah, give this little dipshit a briefing.” Detective Novak purred, looking directly into Dean’s shocked face before turning up an alley.

Dean nearly jumped at the proximity of the woman. “Hi.”

“Hi. Come in here, we will fill you in on the details with the rest of our team. You are the liaison, no?”

“Yea, uh sorry about this morning. I got roped into wrestling cameras. The media,” he clarified for her when he noticed her confusion. “They were a little ballsy.”

"Yes. Murders are wondrous, are they not?" Hannah hummed as she passed Dean to open the door of a nearby sedan. "I'll fill you in and introduce you to the guys at the scene. I don't want to wait all day," she narrowed her eyes at Dean's slight hesitation. "Novak will come in his own time. He likes to make grand exits, he can find his own ride. Now get in, you don’t want to beg a ride from the boss, do you?"

***

Sam needed a smoke and a whisky, in that order. Make that three whiskies and a pack of cigarettes. He inhaled the smoke greedily as soon as he was out the door, cigarette already lit. It settled into his lungs, reminding him to breathe again. In, out. In, out. Why did he ever think he had things figured out?

"Another," Sam motioned to the bartender, who didn't react.

"Sam-"

"No, Ellen. Not right now. Probably not ever."

He turned his attention back to the worn wood, expertly avoiding her motherly gaze. The blessed numbness was finally setting in, and he could breathe.

The thunk of the glass Ellen had just filled covered up the creak of the bar stool beside him.

"Drinking your sorrows now, I see, or is it celebrating the beginning of the next glorious case of your career?"

Sam closed his eyes and tried to suppress the heavy, rolling anger he felt. "Fuck you. Like I care about my career."

"No, just justice," Gabriel amended wryly.

"Fuck you." Sam took a few large swallows before grabbing the pack of smokes he had thrown on the counter earlier and standing up, pausing only to steady himself before heading out the door. Of course, the shorty followed him.

"Sam, I know this all a bit... Well, crazy, but could we -"

"You left me," Sam's voice was low, almost calm as he tried desperately to shove down the same hatred, anger, terror that he had felt a year ago. "Hardly a note. No warning. That 'you know what this is about?' I had no fucking clue, Gabriel!"

"Yes, well... See I was just a wee little janitor and you were Sam the big bad sheriff and I felt a bit.. underused and don't get me wrong, the sex was great, but - ah fuck it. I'm a Milton, of the New York Miltons, Sam. I grew up a stinking rich, spoiled prep school boy, ok? But my family was big and bad and I couldn't handle it, I ran away and faked my death - which would have been real if it wasn't for you, so thank you for that, by the way. I kept in touch with a few confidantes and a year ago I was told about a scheme my brothers had. They would walk away rich and as a consequence, the business would be ruined. That was my father's legacy and I couldn't let that happen. So I ran away, didn't fake my death this time- you're welcome, by the way- and tried to fix it."

The parking lot was silent, save for the distant roar of engines on the freeway.

"There's two corpses in my morgue and a murderer on the loose."

Gabriel winced. "Yea well, the best laid plans..."

"It was a stupid plan," Sam turned to Gabriel, who swallowed hard, very thankful that Sam had never thrown punches when he was angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uh, hello - ‘Mr. Sheriff I’d like to report one of the biggest companies in America for investment fraud and insider trading please.’ - wouldn’t have gone down so well. And my family is scary, mafia scary-”

“I noticed. Murderer on the loose, remember?”

“As I was saying, they’re scary and rich and have the kind of connections you only see in movies. You were my husband, Sam. I wasn’t going to put you in danger.”

His words dispersed into the wind, curling and stretching out in the brisk evening air.

“Go home, Gabe. Watch some of that crappy TV you love.”

“You’ll see me tomorrow?” The suggestion was sent with Gabe’s signature smirk, or possibly a grin, as he watched Sam’s face for any trace of emotion, but the man wasn’t that drunk yet. Or possibly was too drunk.

“Good-bye Gabe.”

As Sam went back into the bar, Gabriel wondered what had happened to the cowboy boots he had given Sam at their last Christmas. They had made for a nice aesthetic.

Mmmm, cowboys. Motel TV, here he comes.

 

***

"I haven’t seen Castiel in years. He used to be not so…”

“Arrogant? Unproffessional? Absolutely infuriating?”

“Anal. He should be on one of those cop shows. You know the kind - ‘intelligent but unconventional genius solves any crime’."

"God, why are the assholes always so hot?" How Dean ended up having a drink with Sam's deputy and not his own partner, he didn't know, but he definitely regretted it now. Complaining about a man to the man's own family was low, even for Dean.

"I'd say fuck him but I don’t want to be responsible for World War III."

"I don't fuck colleagues."

Balthazar snorted. "Anna.”

"Fuck you, dude. How was I supposed to know she was undercover? Shit, that was a hot night..."

Balthazar groaned. “God, what is it with you and my relatives? That’s not going to get you into my pants, Dean.”

"Ew. Your name is Balthazar. Balthy. You are like, the opposite of attractive. You want to be in my pants, dude. Hey, who are these relatives? I thought you were some perpetual loner, a sad excuse of a man using my brother to advance his career.”

Balthazar held up a hand. “I’d invite you to one of my orgies sometime, but the less police, the better. Castiel is my cousin. Anna is a sister. Oh - that witness who refused to talk to anyone but Sam? Another cousin. The vics and that guy they are looking for, also cousins.”

Dean was silent for a moment before taking another drink. “Just to set the record straight, I’m not into those corpses.”

“Y’know, I think I have a key. We could sneak in the morgue, one for me, one for you. No cameras there either.”

Dean turned to the deputy with a flat look."How are you not in jail?”

Balthazar sniffed. “Incest is not a crime.”

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

“Not if no one knows. Anyways, I haven’t seen any of them since I was a little boy.”

“And not quite such a pervert. You’re cut-off, Balthy.,” Deans head was flat on the table where he’d let it fall.

“I’m lovely. Well, it’s been fun, Dean-o. See ya round.”

“There better be bars in between us next time!” Dean called as Balthazar began to walk towards the door.

“Kinky!” Balthazar yelled back, a few patrons turning, unsure of which man to stare at.

Dean let his head fall back down. “Another.” He mumbled at the not-so-clean wood. “Should have gone to Ellen’s.”

“Excuse me. What was that?” The deep rumble that interrupted his pity party should not have sent fire through his veins while he was still recovering from Balthazar. Dean lifted his head just enough, making eye contact with Detective Novak.

“Evening, Detective. Your cousin is a charmer, watch out for that one.”

Detective Novak’s eyebrows drew together. “Which one? And call me Castiel.”

“Balthazar.” Angling his body towards the bar, Dean open his mouth to call for another but was interrupted by the waitress who appeared in front of him.

“Another beer for the necrophiliac,” disgust flitted across her features, “and the same for the cop. Let me know if there’s anything else, gentlemen.” She let her sultry voice dip a little lower, her eyes lingering on Castiel. “Cops get special treatment around here.”

"Thanks," Cas acknowledged without looking up, "but I think I'll forgo the 'special treatment' tonight."

Dean's eyebrows rose as the waitress sneered and left to go help some other fool. "Wow. Cas, she’s totally hot.

"I'd take it you haven't been offered the special treatment then."

"What?" Dean sputtered. " Maybe I just turned her down!"

"No, you aren't the type to turn down a sexual advance. Don't worry, it's not your lack of appeal, you just aren't her kind of mark. You'd be a lot more bitter if she had offered, I think. Nothing of yours is worth to her, I'm guessing."

"Look, I'll have you know I am fully capable in bed-"

"I don't doubt that, Dean. On the contrary, I meant anything of monetary value. See how she's talking to that man over there? She's looking for more than just tips. Drunk idiots keep no secrets, especially from a bartender. Cheers," Castiel knocked Dean's bottle where it still sat on the table between them, untouched.

Cas' phone vibrated on the table, and he swore as he read the text. Dean couldn’t help but think that was hot too.

Cas stood. "That was Hannah. Guess that beer is going to have to wait. Let's go," he threw some cash on the table and stood.

"My car’s on the next street over," Cas said as he lead Dean towards the alleyway.

"Have a thing for dark alleys, do you?" Dean muttered, just loud enough so the other man could hear.

Dean's reflexes were near perfect, but he had no time to react before he was roughly shoved into the wall, his back scraping loose concrete. He had even less time to question what was happening before Castiel's tongue was begging entrance into his mouth.

Dean's reflexes finally caught up to him as he settled his hands on Castiel's ass, grinding into the other man's body as hands wound under his shirt and up his chest.

"Cas. You called me Cas." Castiel ground out as he mouthed at Dean's neck.

"Yea well, didn't wanna rhyme." The little gasps that kept interrupting him turned became harder as Cas bit down. Then, without warning, Cas stepped back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dean." Cas adjusted his shirt, rolling up his sleeves to hide the loss of a button on his cuff.

"What? I thought- didn't we have a call?"

"No. You know Dean, you're an easy man to figure out, almost easier than grand larceny back there," Cas began, nodding at the way they had come. "You're honest, for one. Going by the way you kiss, fucking you would be a revelatory experience. You're not as dedicated to your job as your little brother, judging by the way you forgot crime and justice as soon as I touched you." Cas paused, leaning closer to Dean once again, faint traces of cologne nearly distracting him from what Cas was saying. "You called me unprofessional Dean. I assure you, I am a consummate professional. You, on the other hand, were ready to go work slightly inebriated." With that, he simply turned and left, leaving Dean gaping, trying to work past the lump in his throat and lingering arousal.

***

The shrill beeping of the alarm pierced Sam's skull. Throwing his arm over the snooze button, he half groaned, stopping when he realized that made it hurt more. He sat up, trying unsuccessfully to shove his hair back before braving the walk to the bathroom - and the light, which he turned back off as soon as he found the painkillers. Padding his way to the kitchen, he marvelled at the clean hallway. There was nothing to stumble over, and even a year after Gabriel had left it still surprised him.

Gabriel. He touched his chest, the ache of his loss still raw. But he's back now, some traitorous part of his mind whispered.

Downing his pills and beginning the coffeemaker, Sam fumbled through his coat to find his cigarettes before heading out onto the porch distract himself from his throbbing head, which wasn't being helped by thinking of Gabriel.

He hadn't really explained all that much last night. Was he really unhappy? Gabriel was good at hiding emotions, hell, he had hidden his entire identity despite being married to the Sheriff.

Sam flicked his cigarette nervously. He had no reason to marry me though.

No, just the name change and the Sheriff's protection, the stupid voice answered again, clearly miffed with his indulgence the previous night.

The smell of coffee wafted out the screen door and Sam followed it back inside, grabbing a thermos from the counter and filling it while checking his email, swearing at the hot liquid which splashed on his hand.

"Just another day at the office," he muttered, trying to speed read the updates from the forensic team and the reports from last night, quite a chore with the brightness so low his screen was barely glowing.

Locking the door behind him, he stepped easily into his big truck and let it's low rumble burrow into his bones.

Sam stopped short once he stepped into his office.

"Oh. I had noticed a cot in your office. I hope you don't mind, he needs his beauty sleep or we all pay dearly. Come on, we'll let him be and I'll fill you in on the case." Hannah had come up silently behind him and Sam couldn’t help but wonder if she had followed him through the whole precinct.

"You've been here all night?"

"There may be more of us than just Lucifer, but we need every advantage we can get. He's lived up to his namesake - incidents seem to always appear near him, but we've never had anything concrete until now. As you know, we do more than just forensics - we're detectives, and work closely with other detectives and the FBI to minimize mistakes. Lucifer is a sadist, he spent time on those bodies and the plastic sheet suggests he intended to keep it clean but got carried away. We've checked all outbound flights from yesterday morning and given the airlines an updated photo along with passport information.  We also have been monitoring everything within a days drive but nothing's come up so far. If he's already killed again, it's a low profile victim and it may be a while before we hear about it, if ever."

Sam was silent for a moment, taking it all in. "What are the chances of him sticking around Kansas?"

Hannah grimaced. "I'm going to have to talk to the brother, Gabriel. Depending on the nature of their relationship, Lucifer might stick around to finish the last of his siblings."

"So, what's the motive?" Sam asked, thinking of what Gabriel had mentioned about his father's company the night before.

"Like I said, best case scenario, he lost it and Michael and Raphael were in the wrong place. Well, best case for Gabriel, not so much the public. I hear he's your ex-husband?"

"Yes," Sam shied away from giving anyone with half decent profiling skills more than that. Thankfully, Detective Novak had woken up and come out of the office to glare at the coffee maker.

"Like a child," Hannah admonished. "Sit down, I'll make your coffee."

"Sam, how much do you know about Gabriel's family?" Castiel asked once he had his coffee in front of him.

"Not much - yesterday was the first time I've heard of them."

"Rumours are that the Novak brothers were about to get in deep shit by possibly jump starting another recession. I was talking a friend in New York," Castiel nodded at Hannah, who was clearly unamused that he hadn't been sleeping the whole time he was in the office, "who filled me in on what's been flying around. The officer in charge of the investigation has yet to get back to me. If that's true, Sam, then his brothers actions were most likely Lucifer's trigger, and Gabriel will be next."


	2. C. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has to deal with having Gabriel in his (their?) house again, Gabriel accidentally lets a big secret slip, and Dean just wants to drink with someone who is not Balthazar.

Keys jingled. The door slammed. Gabriel, clearly torn between feeling like a louse for leaving Sam, and slight exuberance for being back home finally, was his usual obnoxious self. In Sam’s eyes, he was overly obnoxious, ungrateful and did not belong in his house anymore.

He'd just have to treat Gabriel like any other guest. "You can drop your things in the spare bedroom," he told him. Well, an unwanted inconsiderate guest.

Gabriel looked down at his empty hands and snorted. "You gonna give me a blanket, oh kind one?" After a moment's silence, he rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm going to check out the TV. You do whatever it is you... do."

Sam ordered from the place down the street, hating that he remembered Gabriel's order. Gabriel whooped in the background. "You still subscribe to Space! Atta be, big boy!"

The nickname tumbled through Sam's brain, snagging on memories of oh god and yes right there yes and so good, so hot. He slipped out the door, not completely able, or maybe unwilling, to stop the barrage.

"You smoke," he heard Gabriel say from behind him some time later. He wondered if that was the first non-snarky thing he'd heard Gabe say yet.

"Yes," caught between a grunt and a full exposition of what the past year was like, Sam settled on something in between.

"Food's here." Gabriel hefted a big white bag with his right hand before sitting beside Sam on the back porch and setting it between them. He handed Sam a fork. "Dig in, rabbit. Yeah I saw what you got. Don't know why you insist, this lasagna is the best. You know, in New York-"

"Maybe it was for me," Sam quipped, his own salad unopened in his lap.

"Oh, shit." Gabriel froze. "Well it's too late to change now, right?" He lowered the fork back down and began to reach for the container in Sam's lap.

Sam laughed. "I'm kidding! Eat it before it gets cold."

Gabriel was more careful now. "Are you sure? I can go get another if you'd like, it's right down the street, I'll be back in a jiffy."

It was funny how quickly boundaries could be rewritten with one meal, despite the fact that Sam still subscribed to Gabe's stupid Space channel and, occasionally, watched it, just so that he could pretend for a few minutes that Gabriel had never left.

And now he's back.

"Salad is healthy, and besides, I like it." It was silent as they ate, both trying to forget the events of the past 24 hours.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel spoke suddenly. Sam waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "For... the lasagna? Really? Still?" He said, trying to see if Gabriel would elaborate.

"No, Sam. I'm not that dense. And neither are you. I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry you’re smoking. I'm sorry I showed back up along with two corpses and a murderer on the loose."

What could Sam say to that? It was all true, and none of it was ok. "I used to smoke. It was easy to get back in the habit,” he replied lamely.

Gabriel was staring into his now-empty container. These silences, Sam thought, are strange. He didn't like them. He wanted it to be like nothing had happened. He wanted candy wrappers in his couch and chocolate chip pancakes in bed and he wanted to run his fingernails down Gabe's chest and-

"I'm gonna call Cas." Gabriel said suddenly, standing up..

"Good idea. I'll be in the office, don't leave the house."

"Yes, sir!" Gabriel replied, and Sam nearly flinched. The last time he’d heard the other man say that, they’d been in bed and there’d been a flirty wink attached.

"I'm serious,” Sam managed to say. “The only reason you're here and not with a bodyguard and extra patrol cars is because, according to Castiel, you'll listen to me."

"Oh Cassie is so wise,” Gabriel grumbled even as the phone was pressed to his ear, Castiel’s number already dialed.“Yeah, hi Cas- no, I wasn’t calling you Cassie- yes, I know all about your MMA skills-" Gabriel's voice faded back into the house, leaving Sam in silence again.

Sam groaned as he waited for his emails to load. It was late, and he’d rather watch Gabriel’s crappy TV.  He’d have coffee after this, but first he had to get caught up with the case. Lucifer had disappeared, since the black SUV had been spotted in a few nearby towns at a playground no less. Sam hated that they had yet to catch them. They were almost finished gathering evidence from the motel room, and some white collar crime guys wanted to interview Gabriel about his brother's plans. The last email was from a lady who claimed to be on the board of Milton Corporations who needed to get in touch with Gabriel ASAP.

Sam wandered back into the house, hoping whatever it was that Gabriel wanted with his brother was already taken care of, because the lady made it seem like a matter of life and death. Considering that Gabriel was a witness in a murder case, it was possible.

Gabriel was sitting at the dinner table, still talking on the phone (and somehow doing the newspaper crossword at the same time), but he moved the phone away from his ear when he spotted Sam. He took the motion as a sign that it was okay to say something.

"Hey, do you know a Jody Mills?"

"Cas wants to talk to you."

They had spoken at the same time and now stared at each other, waiting for the other to go first.

Sam didn't bother speaking, just reached for the fresh coffee Gabriel held with his left hand and for the phone with his right.

"Yeah, nice lady,” Gabriel said, leaning back in the chair. “Ran into her in, oh, South Dakota maybe?"

Sam grunted, waving a hand towards the phone to let Gabriel know he wasn't finished asking about Jody and gesturing for him to leave.

"Detective Novak," he greeted Castiel once the door had closed and he heard the TV turn on. "What's up?"

“Your brother is an imbecile.”

“Well, uh, yes… yes he is. What did he do this time?”

“He is currently propositioning a member of my team, the third today. I do not understand why I couldn’t have Garth. Garth would have been good.”

“Look, he’s easy enough to manage. Just give him a job to do and keep him away from the girls.”

Cas snorted. “I didn’t say he was propositioning the girls. It’s everyone. There’s no line.”

Sam smiled, but it felt unfamiliar after the past few days. “That sounds like Dean. Threaten him with paperwork. Send him on a coffee run. He’ll get it out of his system with the barista, hopefully.”

“Thank you. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Yeah, me neither. That’s all, Detective Novak?”

“Yes. I will talk to you later.”

Sam hung up the cell, tossing it at Gabriel as he came into the living room.

“Hey! That’s my head! Precious cargo, here!.”

“Right. I’m going to the precinct. Don’t fuck anything up or I’ll take you off communication privileges.”

“You can’t do that!”

“All it takes is one word.”

“Oh yeah? What word would that be?”

“Suspect,” Sam leered at Gabe, before grabbing his keys to leave. “Later, loser.” For a moment, it felt like the one of the many goodbyes from before, when they were husband and husband. Then, Sam reached for his pack of cigarettes and the unfamiliarity flared again in Gabriel’s gut. He turned back to the TV, not even deigning to add his own farewell.

"I can't break your passwords. Computer, Wi-Fi, nothing." Gabe greeted Sam as he came on from his shift. "I mean, you’re sentimental about TV channels, but not this?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"Maybe I will, seems to be the only option around here." Gabriel replied, his easy flirtatious candor reminiscent of what once was.

“You can’t do this Gabe! You can’t waltz in here, like you never left, make some stupid non-apology and then think everything will be back to normal! It’s over, you ended it, and I have the stupid papers to prove it. God knows what I was thinking when I let you stay with me, but the minute this case is over I want you out and don’t think you’ll be leaving before then because God help me if I get you killed.”

“You and God on good terms these days? Y’know, if he’s gonna help you and shit.”

“Gabe. We’re over. There’s nothing left. Watch your damn TV and go to bed, I don’t care if you’re on a fucking sugar high but you’re sleeping tonight.”

“Look at you, the protective sheriff. So big and good and kind.”

“Fuck off, Gabe. Leave me the hell alone. Whatever the fuck you’re playing at, I don’t want to deal with it.”

“But you do want to keep me safe from Lucifer.”

“Yeah, because it’s my job, and as much as we’re over, I still don’t want you dead. Not a strange thing, don’t know if you would know the feeling.” Sam didn’t give Gabe a chance to reply before leaving the room, but only got halfway up before his phone started ringing.

“Sheriff Winchester.”

“Hey Sammy! So look, the guys and I were thinking you needed a night out, we’re going to the roadhouse and -”

“No, Dean.”

“Look, you could bring Gabe, it would be just like good old times, well except that extra detective crew would be hanging around, have some beers, play some pool, whaddya say?”

“I say fuck off, Dean.” Sam hit the ‘end call’ button with as much force as possible, swearing when it started ringing almost right away. He couldn’t silence his phone at night, in case he got a call, so he debated the merits of destroying his smartphone (Charlie had dealt with his ‘accidents’ before) before finally picking up again.

“Dean. I said no, can you lay off?” His voice rose, his frustration floating to the surface.

“Sammy, it’s one night. You need to get out of that goddamn house!”

“No! Dean, I may be four years younger than you but I do not need your brother-ing today.”

“Ellen’s got a damn good salad on the menu and your favourite beer on tap. I’m paying.”

“Fine, if you’d just shut up for a goddamn second.”

“Bring Gabe. I got some people to distract him. Bye.”

“Bye,” but Dean had already hung up. Sam threw on a new shirt and went back downstairs.

“New plan, I’m going out and you have to come with by order of Dean. Let’s go.”

“But-” Gabe protested weakly pointed at the screen. Sam just leveled him with a look, prompting an “Okay, okay!” and quick moves from Gabriel.

Sam resisted the urge (barely) to smack the contented smile that lit up Gabe’s face when they walked into the pub. Dean spotted them right away, yelling to Ellen to “Bring Sam’s rabbit shit,” prompting a comeback, most likely violent, which got lost in the din. Jo was there almost right away, giving Sam a kiss on the cheek and merely lifting an eyebrow at the sight of Gabriel.

“Lagavulin, neat,” Gabriel nodded at Jo, not acknowledging the ice.

“Laga-wha?”

“Whatever whisky you got will be fine,” Gabe half sighed, as if finally remembering where he was. He got another raised eyebrow from Dean, and resisted the urge to demand a free drink for every one of those damn things he got tonight.

Finally the conversation started up again, Dean relating some story about Balthazar while Benny interjected his own additions even though “You weren’t even there dude,” and Cas glowered at his own drink down the table.

Sam finished his salad and grabbed his empty beer bottle to talk to Jo, who was eyeing him warily.

“Heard you let that douchebag come home.”

“It’s temporary. He’s in the middle of our case.”

Jo snorted. “Figures. He’s always in the middle of all the shit, isn’t he? Anyways, you didn’t come over here for old advice, what can I get you?”

“Jager bomb, and keep them coming.”

“Sure. Just a sec. Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” He swiveled back around from watching the tables.

“Take care of yourself, and don’t be a stranger, OK? Or I’ll come around the precinct and kick your ass.”

Sam huffed, half smiling. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure I swing by. Thanks, Jo,” he saluted her with his shot glass before knocking it back and grabbing the second one she had already prepared beside his beer to take back to the table. Gabe gave an appreciative nod and went back to his conversation with Cas while Dean didn’t even register Sam’s return, save for some jab about his girly hair. The night got bigger and brighter as Jo brought more shots, finally cutting him off after Sam began giggling at his fries and flopping them in everyone’s face, ketchup getting everywhere. Gabriel assured Dean he’d get Sam home safe before they began to walk home.

“Can’t you just get a cruiser, Sam?”

“That would be,” he hiccuped, “abuse of power, G-” he hiccuped again, “-abe.” Sam’s hiccups sent Gabriel into a peal of laughter, halting their slow stumble towards home because he had to sit down onto the curb to get a breath.

Sam grumbled, “Fat ass,” as he helped Gabe up, nearly falling over backwards.

“What, great ass, you say? Hmm,” Gabe nearly fell over, twisting, trying to get a view.

“Gaaa-aaabe, let’s go.”

“Pfffttt, you’re no fun.”

“I get elec-” he hiccuped, getting frustrated with the temporary affliction.”-ted to my job, the old-”another hiccup “-ladies don’t like drunks.”

“Everyone loves a happy drunk. C’mon Samster, this way. Woohoo!” Gabriel yelled as he skipped slightly, running ahead before turning around to face Sam. “C’mon, say it with me!”

“Woohoo. There’s a -” he hiccuped, a bitchy expression starting to come across his face. “-a murderer after you, Gabe.”

“No, I killed him! Live a little!” At the look on Sam’s face, Gabriel finally realized what he had just said. “Oh shit. I mean, I’m gonna kill that little shit when I find him!”

Sam had frozen halfway across the street he had been crossing. He looked like he had just been slapped, or like the world he had been carrying on his shoulders had finally gotten to heavy. If anything, a small amount of temporary sobriety.

“Shit, shit, shit, Sam! I can explain. Wait, don’t move. Or do. Get out of the street. Sit.” Gabriel disappeared into the liquor store, coming out with a bottle of Jack which he placed in Sam’s hands.

“Shouldn’t be drinking more,” Sam mumbled.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re drunk enough for this. Let’s get inside first, two more blocks.”

Sam stared at the bottle in his hands as if it were a foreign object. “Home.” His voice was choked, hopeful, nostalgic, and broken all at once. Gabriel fought the urge to vomit, that’s just the whisky, Gabriel, and positioned himself at Sam’s side, partly to hold the big guy up and partly to keep him from running away.

“That’s it, Sam. Not much further.”

Sam took a swig, nearly tripping over his toes as his legs fought to remember how to walk. “Old ladies. Votes.”

“I don’t think those matter so much right now. Well, I hope they don’t. I like to think I’m pretty important, y’know?” Once glance at Sam’s face reminded Gabriel of his latest fuck-up and how totally out of it Sam was. Would he even remember this in the morning? But Sam always remembered in the morning, even that time when they both were blind drunk and totally oblivious to their whisky dick. Gabriel still couldn’t remember, but Sam, Sam had the mind of a chinese finger trap. Damn.

“This is nasty,” Sam mumbled as he simultaneously tried to drink from his bottle and walk in the door at the same time, an impressive feat while sober, let alone three sheets to the wind. “M’ going to bed.” Sam set the bottle down on the nearest surface, and Gabriel almost didn’t have enough time to stop the impending disaster.

“K, night!” He called after the moose who was making his way upstairs, lightly bumping both sides of the stairwell. “Talk to you tomorrow!” Fuck.

Sam woke the next morning with the nastiest taste in his mouth. The bedsheets felt like sandpaper on his face and he didn’t even notice the glass of water and bottle of painkillers beside the bed as he ran for the bathroom. Apparently he had salad last night - Right, the roadhouse. Gabriel. Lucifer. That was a joke right? Gabriel was always kidding around, probably just wanted to go free.. how would he even manage to kill a psycho like Lucifer? Out-psychoing a psycho… Sam groaned. It was too early in the morning for thinking and he had drank too much last night. His phone lit up, that annoying ringtone Dean had programmed, and he ignored it in favour of the smell of coffee drifting in from the kitchen.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Gabriel held out a cup to Sam. “Back to being icy cool this morning, I see. Sleep well?”

Sam grunted, bypassing the coffee for his half-empty pack of cigarettes and opening the patio door.

“I’ll take that as a… well, actually I have no clue. Sam. Sam! You have no pants!” Sam simply turned to stare at Gabriel as he lit his cigarette, looking completely unimpressed with Gabriel’s observation.

“Happens. Neighbours don’t care.”

“With an ass like that, no one’s going to complain. Stop showing off, Sammy. Go put on pants,” Gabriel put on his bossy voice, hoping to lure Sam inside, but Sam just laughed, waved around his cigarette, saying he never smoked inside and he’d like that coffee now, thank you very much.

“Aren’t you cold?” Gabriel asked when he came back outside.

“How’d you kill Lucifer?”

Gabe froze. “Wh-What? I don’t understand, I didn’t mean-”

“I like to think we were friends once, more than lovers. Actually, husbands, but that’s neither here nor there. So tell me, Gabe, how’d you do it?”

Gabriel swallowed hard, before reaching for Sam’s pack of cigarettes, waving wildly when Sam pulled it away quickly.

“Those aren’t for you. Explain.”

There was no way out, not with Sam giving him that bitchface and the way his eyes tugged on his… no, he didn’t have a heart. Ok, here goes. “Well, uh, I actually caught him after all the fun, he was uh, ‘dismantling’ Michael and Raphael, who were the one’s to invite me to that jig in the first place. Said I could help, had an extra machete just layin’ there on the bed. I took it, made a nice little cut, he fell over - that plastic sheet wasn’t almost big enough, I was damn lucky I caught most of the spray. Then I called some people to take care of it, the kind of people that will do anything for money but do it well, at least, and then called the cops and Dean-o was taking me in and, well, you know the rest from there.”

“Where’s the body?”

Why is Sam not freaking out, is he still drunk? High? Check the eyes, Gabriel... “Funny story, easiest place to hide a body is in a grave already dug. Some old lady, cancer, they never noticed and now they’re six feet under. I hope for her sake neither of them sticks around.”

“Huh.” Sam tossed his cigarette butt in the ashtray and picked up his coffee, closing his eyes as he had the first sip. “Good thing you remember how I like my coffee or I’d have to turn you in.”

“Uh.. thank you? You’re welcome?”

Sam turned, wincing as the early morning sun fell into his eyes. “I may still turn you in, Gabriel. Not only did you kill your brother and lied to every cop who could get close enough to listen, your lies have been dragging this case out long enough. The women in the next town over are terrified for their children’s lives!”

“At least they’re alive! If Lucifer was running free, they could have actually been in danger!”

“I know. Christ,” Sam covered his eyes, letting his head rest in his hand for second. “I gotta go to work. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Can I run away?” Gabe asked, his voice cheerful as he sat up straight.

“I don’t know. I don’t care.” Sam’s parting words were particularly venomous. Just the hangover talking, Gabe assured himself as he tucked Sam’s forgotten cigarette pack into his back pocket.

When Sam got into his office, he let his head drop heavily onto the desk, desperately trying to block out the phones ringing, Gabe’s confession, the sound of his door opening… his head shot up as he greeted the newcomer.

“Sam.” It was Castiel, and he quickly closed the door behind him, muffling the noise of the precinct once again.

“Detective Novak, what can I do for you?”

Castiel took a seat and sighed, steeling himself to speak. “There’s a difference between being a good man, and a good citizen, Sam.”

Sam’s mind flailed around for a second before his face hardened. “You knew?”

“Not for long. This case has been bothering me for a while, I only figured it out last night.”

“So, which one are you? The good man, or the good citizen?”

“I love my job, and I love what I accomplish every time I finish a case. I see nothing wrong with what Gabriel had done, save for covering it up, but I am not a judge and can’t make that call. However, if nothing comes forward to incriminate Gabriel, then I cannot help those who don’t figure it out.”

“Cannot or will not?”

“Sam,” Castiel leaned forward, “I will not make this judgement for you, that is only for you to decide. But you must decide which is more important: being the good man, or being the good citizen.” With that, he rose and once again left Sam alone in his misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a month. Sorry about insertion of philosophy at the end - I was studying Aristotle for a Poli-Sci exam at the time. I really wish this fic could have more whiz/bang/sex, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!


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